


Dragon's silence

by LaSourisRousse



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Letters, Memories, Minor Character Death, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaSourisRousse/pseuds/LaSourisRousse
Summary: Prompt: You are a telepath who hides it. Your love is tragically dying. Describe what it feels like not to hear their thoughts anymoreHermione writes a letter to Harry on his fortieth birthday, after spending ten years away from the wizarding world
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 4





	Dragon's silence

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Драконья тишина](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111025) by [LaSourisRousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaSourisRousse/pseuds/LaSourisRousse). 



> English is not my first language and it probably shows, sorry about the mistakes that might distract you from reading

Dear Harry,

Do you remember how we joked then, in the tent, that if we lived to be forty and by that time none of us would have a serious relationship, then we would get married? It must be past midnight when you receive this letter. Of course, I'm not going to propose to you in a letter, when we haven't seen each other for ten years. Even I am not that unromantic. And, just in case, I have put a light spell of satiety and anti-thirst on the letter so that you wouldn't choke on anything. Sorry for this little intrusion, but you must admit that it would be stupid if the hero of magical Britain died on his fortieth birthday, choking on a firewhiskey while reading a letter from an old friend. So, to the promises made long ago. I think that in return I must give you something important, even if not a hand in marriage. How about a secret I've kept since our first year?

You know, I didn't often have to lie to you, except perhaps when you and Ron were complete idiots during the tournament of three wizards. But there was one moment when I thought that I would have to lie and then support this lie for years. I'm still surprised I didn't have to. Yes, keeping silent about something for 30 years is also a lie in a certain sense, but I learned not to feel pangs of conscience about this by our third year. Otherwise, it was simply not possible to survive. But I managed to avoid direct lies. So, do you know what that moment was? When Snape taught you Occlumency. Obviously, he was almost the only person who could teach you to put a full-fledged defense, but every day I waited for you to come and ask me to train with you. I, of course, was not a Legillement, but I thought that you would ask me to try, or at least explain the theory to you in normal language, and not in Snape's manner. But you didn't ask. Still wondering why.

What was I afraid of? That I would have to explain that you were able to put up some sort of barrier against Legilimency, but it didn't help _against me_. And Legilimency remained almost the only area of magic, apart from flying, that I wasn't even remotely good at. I just never needed it, and the approach itself seemed so limited that there was no point in mastering it. Why? The Muggle term "telepath" is best suited to describe it. I can read minds, Harry. I can almost see you raise your eyebrows now. I should choose a different expression, I guess. I _read_ minds, Harry. Almost without effort. Any minds. Without spells, even without non-verbal ones, there is no block from this, or I have never encountered it. At first glance, it seems that there is nothing wrong with this confession, well, telepathy, so what. This is a familiar line of thought for a Muggle-born, especially one who has never been fond of the history and theory of magic (sorry, but it's true). Yes, once you thought you were an ordinary person, and then you cast a spell on the snake. You might think telepathy is just the next level of magic, albeit a bit intimidating. No, Harry. Muggles are used to things being outside of their control. Yes, they burned witches, but still, they are quite calm about the idea of supernatural. But for wizards, this confession is much more frightening. Because they think that if they prepare, they can resist any spell other than Avada. You do not always have enough knowledge and strength, you do not always have time to react, but in general, wizards are used to feeling their power over magic, at least in theory. If you tell them that there is a true telepath among them, they will treat him worse than Voldemort would have been treated if he was disarmed and left to be torn apart by the crowd. Because I automatically invade the life of every person that is standing next to me. I'm not just a hypothetical issue for them, I violate their minds every minute of our coexistence.

As a child, I began to notice that I hear people. It was weird, but it didn’t stand out too much compared to all the other magic outbursts from children. When I received the letter from Hogwarts, I thought that now, at last, someone would accept me the way I was. I probably didn't understand the full depth of it, but it was a terrible relief for me to hear something that felt like "everything is fine with you, we understand and accept you". This was enough for about two months. It took me two months to reach chapter sixty-two of the History of Magical Abilities. Luckily, at least I wasn't boastful. Yes, of course, everyone thought I was a know-it-all, including you, but if you look back, I think you can notice how many things I did not talk about. I also did not have time to boast of telepathy in two months. Perhaps I was saved by the novelty of the wizarding world, everything around was so delightful that for a while it seemed to me that this skill was available to all wizards, so there was no point in mentioning it.

Do you know what chapter sixty-two is about? Telepaths. This is an extremely rare gift that is not well received by the wizarding community. I studied this topic a lot, and the last telepaths that are known to history - Oliver and Amanda Fletcher, were put in Azkaban 38 years ago. I can see the thought flashing in your brain: "So they did something bad." Even after so many years. No, Harry. In the criminal code of Aurorat, there is still an article "for the use of telepathy on people without their consent". There is just one caveat. We cannot help using it. I would be interested to know what was going on in the head of the person who came up with such an article (sorry for the cheap pun), but alas, the opportunity will not present itself. No, I can understand them in some way - I would also not want someone to be able to read my thoughts without any obstacles, especially since this ability is not available to everyone. But from the telepathic side, I tell you - it is impossible to stop it in normal life. There are some ways, but they are all, to put it mildly, imperfect.

Now you are probably thinking about all the inappropriate thoughts that I could have heard. Yes, there were a lot, but maybe you shouldn't worry so much. What if the most inappropriate ones you managed to keep secret? We should take this step by step. This is, in a way, the study of my entire life, although scientifically it is very limited because my only object to study was myself. Yes, I was probably not the only telepath in Britain, but they (us) are quite difficult to recognize. I didn’t want to be found, so I didn’t look for others. Therefore, it is likely that not all of my conclusions are valid for all telepaths.

First, telepathy does not mean that we hear all the thoughts of absolutely all people, otherwise telepathic children would go crazy before reaching school age. It is rather like neighboring radio stations - the signal is clear at about the same distance as the audibility of a low voice, then it starts overlapping and disappearing. In childhood, the hearing and telepathic signals are often mixed and perceived as a single whole; with age, I learned to “tune” and clearly distinguish them. The telepathic signal is not transmitted by telephone, but it is through the Floo. Secondly, the signal strength depends on how the person feels about me. I heard you and Ron within a screaming distance. Umbridge I could hardly distinguish even when she stood next to me. Although it may depend on the speaker's emotions, if they are too strong, then the hearing radius increases. Thirdly, as I mentioned, it can be slightly muffled. There is a special potion that narrows the radius to two meters, regardless of the person's attitude. A side effect - an hour after taking it, a terrible headache begins and does not go away for several hours. McGonagall told me about it when I did too well on my Transfiguration exam in our third year. Too good even for the know-it-all Hermione Granger. She felt that there was a catch somewhere, and I was terribly tired of living with it alone. In general, adolescents have low stability in such things. I told her. She tried to keep the straight face but failed, to be honest. I should probably be grateful to her for not giving me over to Aurorat. For bringing me books on telepathy from the forbidden section. But I think she did it with the expectation that I would find how to stop it. She taught me to brew a blocking potion and made me drink it before every exam. Great teaching tactic, isn't it? To expose the student, who was already studying harder than anyone else, to daily migraines every semester, so long as she does not "cheat" on exams by reading from the teacher's head. She always made me take her exams not only in the classroom with everyone but also separately. I came to an empty tower, found the written tasks there, and completed them alone, under an observing spell. She could not tell other teachers, and it was clear that this went against all her beliefs. Can you imagine, the student to whom she leaves the opportunity to cheat! What a scandal! I'm curious, did you notice how she was always keeping a safe distance from me (and all of us by extension) after the third year? I guess in the end I'm grateful to her. But I cannot say that our interactions were entirely pleasant. I think she told Dumbledore too. I was even surprised that he didn't send me to Voldemort instead of you. Sacrificial protection is, of course, powerful, but he had no guarantees that it could really hit Voldemort, and not just protect you. Reading his mind would be an interesting twist, wouldn't it? After all, Dumbledore was never shy about putting us in danger, let's be honest. It's a pity that telepathy doesn't work on portraits. Here I would not hesitate to use my abilities. But this question will have to remain unanswered.

So this is the general description of telepathy. I missed only one important detail, but it is not described in any books, this is my personal observation. Ever heard of the Muggle concept of soulmates? Telepathy has a similar effect too. Or at least mine had. With my parents, with you and Ron, with Victor - with everyone else, the telepathic effect was limited to a couple dozens of meters. But I heard Amy's thoughts every minute, from our first encounter to her death, no matter where we were.

By that time I've worked at St. Mungo for a little over three years. And so, I'm doing heart surgery on Mrs. Edwards, I have a new assistant, Amy. Well, you know this part of the story of our acquaintance. So, towards the end of the surgery, I send her for an additional dose of the potion. I hear her thinking about the progress of the surgery, then something about my freckles, and then about the inconvenient sorting system in the potions closet. When I realized it, I almost dropped my wand right inside Mrs. Edwards. Because the closet was at the other end of the corridor and no connection has ever reached that far, especially with the person I’ve just met. Honestly, I don't remember how I finished the surgery. I thought about amplification factors, some sort of heredity or effect of stress. The effect lasted to the other end of London. Over the weekend, I even paid an unscheduled visit to my parents in Sydney. I listened to Amy putting too much salt in her potatoes for dinner.

You know, telepathy is somewhat like a Time-Turner. You have a chance to take advantage of unique knowledge, but more often than not it is a bad idea unless you want to influence something insignificant, like attending lectures on numerology and herbology at the same time. This, of course, is not the same as interfering with the flow of time, but the consequences can be just as devastating. People don't always want someone to _actually_ understand and hear them, no matter what they say. So, I have been trying to improve the blocking potion for many years. It didn't work out. And hours of a terrible migraine for the sake of an hour of "normal" communication is still too high a price, so I regularly made deals with my conscience and tried to ignore the incoming thoughts by sheer willpower. There were two moments in my life when the most difficult thing was to pretend that I didn't know anything. When Narcissa verified that you were “dead,” and when Amy got the courage to ask me out. Yes, I understand, you find it funny and a little offensive that I'm comparing situations, but it's the truth. When someone invites you to transgress to the Tokyo Botanical Garden after the night shift, to look at a new exhibition and try to snatch a rare variety of mock-orange for experiments, they don't expect you to offer instead to continue that curious dream from last week, which was interrupted at the most interesting point. By the way, dreams also qualify as thoughts, and I hear them as well.

You know, Harry, I am used to hearing the thoughts of partners on a date and have long come to terms with the fact that if I answer their thoughts in exactly the same way, only out loud, I will be called salacious. Perhaps that is why, on the contrary, I became known to be touchy. I was burned too much by sincerity at the beginning, and then for a very long time, I did not speak about my desires, afraid to show just how accurately I understood my partners. Amy was not like that at all, in many ways. I could always hear her, and therefore more than ever I felt obliged to tell her everything and was afraid of a response. You know, everything went surprisingly well. She said that her grandmother was very well versed in understanding people, and she always assumed this was a high-level Legilimency. Amy herself did not have such abilities, although for some time I suspected she was an excellent actress who hid out of fear because the idea of such a level of connection with only me having this ability seemed anti-scientific. But, apparently, we just clicked that way.

It was surprisingly comfortable to hear her. All the other voices to one degree or another were a noise that distracted me from reality, and her voice seemed to bring clarity and overshadowed the rest (although I did not stop hearing them). I still didn't understand how she could be so comfortable with the fact that someone hears her every thought. You see, I _knew_ that she was comfortable, but I still found it hard to believe. I couldn't be in her place. Do you remember when I first introduced her to you, you said that we have an amazing connection, but we just laughed? Do you understand now how right you were?

I don't know what exactly you thought when it all happened. When Amy's potion experiment failed and she died within minutes. When I killed a man.  
At all court hearings, I was under the blocking potion. I was willing to have any migraines, just not to think that her voice is no longer in my head. Just not to hear the thoughts of people in the courtroom, your thoughts. Of course, Mr. Young did not deserve to die. To be honest, I didn't care if I was found guilty. Yes, it was my actions that killed him, but I couldn't do anything, because the only thought in my head was "I can't breathe." Of course, Mr. Young didn’t need a cooling or oxygen spell, he was already on oxygen. But all I heard was Amy's voice. I couldn't help her and killed my patient. The former Hermione would have asked for maximum punishment to somehow atone for her guilt. All I could think about was that in Azkaban I would be alone with the voices of other prisoners and Amy's absence. That would be more effective than any torture the Aurors could think of. I know you've lost loved ones. I am not trying to diminish these losses. But I never even thought how impossible it is to exist without a voice in your head. There is some irony in the fact that I was acquitted thanks to McGonagall. I still remember your eyes when she said that she knew about the special circumstances that justified me but could not tell the court any details because of the unbreakable vow she had made. I think she made it to Dumbledore's portrait that morning.

As you know, the day after the charges were dropped, I left for a dragon farm in Alaska. I understand that the choice seemed odd to you, to put it mildly, even for a person who just lost the love of her life and accidentally killed a patient. Forgive me for not answering you the first year, and then avoiding talking about the reasons. Another little secret, Harry. Dragons shut out telepathy. Amy got to the bottom of this, then we also went on vacation to Romania to check. We even thought to move, but both loved our work too much, and it seemed that everything was under control. Well, when everything got out of control, I moved to the dragon farm. In Alaska, it is farther from civilization than in Romania, so there is no need to make excuses for not going to the city. At least here I don't hear anyone at all. It seems that everything is almost normal, that I just cannot hear people because of the dragons. Sometimes I manage to forget that I won't hear Amy even if I come to London. Not for long, but it works. I'm almost used to it.

Why am I writing all this now? Well, not counting the promises made at seventeen. Because our farm is being closed, and I'm tired of running. I have not moved away from dragons for ten years, and if I have to do this, then let it have some purpose. In a week I will submit my research to every journal I can think of. Once I fought for the rights of elves. It's time to finally start fighting for my rights. As much as I can.

Happy Birthday, Harry. If you want, if you can forgive almost thirty years of silence - come visit, while everything is still almost the same way. And forgive me for the burnt edge of the letter, a little horntail, the cub of the one from the tournament, says hello.

With love,  
Hermione


End file.
